


The Fifth Circle

by TheCrimsonKing



Category: Black Mirror (TV), Black Mirror: U.S.S Callister, U.S.S Callister, USS Callister
Genre: Dubious Consent, Humiliation, M/M, Threats of Rape/Non-Con, just awfulness all around
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-26
Updated: 2019-03-26
Packaged: 2019-12-18 04:06:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18242045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheCrimsonKing/pseuds/TheCrimsonKing
Summary: Bob was harmless, quiet, bit of a cuck—but Captain Daly was hell.*Captain Daly singles James out for a plant side, private mission. It goes about as well as you'd expect.





	The Fifth Circle

 

_“Vengeance is mine, and retribution,_

_At the appointed time when their foot slips,_

_For the day of their disaster is near,_

_And what awaits them will come quickly.”_

_—_ Deuteronomy 32:35 (New World Translation of the Holy Scriptures)

James Walton thought God would dress better and, oh yeah, not take the form of his best friend, and somewhat underling, Robert Daly.

His captain was everything Bob wasn’t—decisive, attractive, opinionated—a real go-getter. Still not much of a team player, though. He was taller, stronger, and stood straighter, his pale blond hair was combed back and fuller—a winner, if only in this pocket nightmare—or paradise. One man’s heaven could be another man’s hell.

He walked with a sure swagger but in the waking world, he kind of waddled hunched over, like he was being crushed under the weight of his own perceived mediocracy. James had given him self-help books on confidence when they were in college, but they all collected like dust around his computer until even James forgot about them and wrote Bob off as the golden goose who shit technological wonders.

Bob was harmless, quiet, bit of a cuck—but Captain Daly was hell.

Captain Robert Daly walked on to the bridge, slow and methodical with his hands clasped behind his back—a predator on the prowl. He stared straight ahead into the black sea of stars, hitting the starship observation window and slipping past like raindrops against a windshield. He weighed the whole room down with menace—cutting a cold, long, black shadow, like it was a literal overcast following him, fat with rain of biblical proportions. James swore he could see his breath.

Daly sat down in his chair, calm as ever, as everyone cast their gaze down to their assorted tools, trying hard as fuck to make themselves smaller—invisible.

James’s chest tightened as he painted on a smile.

“Welcome back, captain.” James said, surprised at how calm his voice came out.

“Have you located the raiders from Valnar Seven?” Daly asked.

James’s breath stuttered. “I, uh, well—”

“Valnar raiders. Have. You. Found. Them?” Daly turned to watch him with a sparkle of cruel mirth in his storm grey eyes. “Well?”

“I’m getting a signal from a class five planet.” Shania said, trying to save James's ass. It was a bold risk, speaking without being spoken to first, especially when the captain was in this type of mood. “Aralakh A. I can triangulate it.”

Daly smirked, his eyes lingering on her a second too long. He must like the curve ball she threw into the story…or the curve of her ass in her new, even shorter dress. “Excellent. Good job, Lowry.”

The woman breathed a sigh of relief when Daly turned his chair to face Kabir. The kid had his shoulders hiked up, breaking the spell of their campy little act. If Daly noticed it, he didn’t say so.

“Dudani, prepare the transmat system.”

“Of course, captain.”

“Walton,” Daly said. James's stomach sank. Hopefully the other him—or the tiger, as James nicknamed his real self—didn’t get him into hot water…but from Bob's tone, it was so.

“Yes, captain?”

“You're with me.”

“Sir, uh, just me?”

“All I need is you, James.” Daly said in a low voice, his normal one. It was more eerie than that cheesy Space Fleet accent he puts on.

Still, James goes to stand beside his ~~master~~ captain on the transporter, though he watched his shiny shoes in the middle of the white circle. James’s heart tried to beat its way out of his chest as he breathes like the air had turned to glass. The rest of the ‘crew’ is dead silent, though the pity flowed from them in waves.  

“We'll transport down to the planet and bargain with the Valnar raiders. We need the crystals they posses to fuel this ship. Without them, we’re marooned in space.” Daly said. “Mr. Dudani, transport.”

“Aye, aye, captain.”

The rusty palette of dying day smudged the sky from nowhere to everywhere. There were three yellow moons creating an ethereal triangle in the middle of the red wine dark sky. The wind blew soundlessly, skimming the sea of burnt gold sand with its cool fingers. There were black poles of dead trees jutting from the rocks like old bones as he and Daly stare out over a break in the canyon.

James had to take his hat off to Daly. The detail in this place is exceptional. It was almost as if he was staring over the Grand Canyon—he even felt the stinging wind rubbing dust into his raw face. He covered his eyes, only focusing on the flicker of fire down the mountain side. There was a husk of a schooner class starship—or so he’d learned from a sci-fi convention he went to back in college with his buddies. It choked in vines and was basically carved into the mountainside.

“Shall we, lieutenant.” Daly said. It wasn’t a question, even if it was phrased like one. James had learned to read between the lines.

“Yes, sir.”

Somehow, the canyon had perfect steps leading down to the mouth of the ship. James drew his dummy gun when they were a dozen feet away from it.

 “Now, now. None of that, Walton. We’re here to peacefully come to an agreement with these savages.” Daly said.

“Can you negotiate with savages, captain?” James asked, daring to point out the flaw in his sentence. It was one of the little thrills that came with his newfound acting skills.

“Of course. We just have to appeal to their baser instinct.”

“You’re right, as always, sir.” James said. Was he laying it on too thick? He’s not sure where his headspace was—this was the first time Daly had singled one of them out for a mission, so James was justified in his absolute fucking terror. The asshole god always seem to take it out on him the most.

“You have nothing to fear, Walton. I’ll protect you.”

_Bullshit._

The inside of the ship was bathed gold by candles—that’s a first. There’re usually the technological trappings of their old universe sewn through this pocket hell. It was cooler than outside as James rubbed the grit out of his face. The back of the ship was melted with so much shadow that it seemed to go on forever. There was a king-sized bed with silky, plum purple sheets in the middle of the room, a see-through net dripping from it, making it look as if it were a dream. The bed stuck out like a soar thumb and it didn’t bode well.

They were soon surrounded by three, burly, racist characterizations of middle eastern men—guess someone didn’t pay attention to the racial sensitivity seminars the company holds two times a year. They looked as if they walked straight out of Lawrence of Arabia. Thank God they were NPCs and no one from the office. They were holding phaser guns, way more advanced than his—wait, he had to act scared.

“Captain! We’re surrounded!” James said. He was supposed to be Lieutenant Obvious.

“Let’s not lose our heads, Lieutenant Walton.” Daly put on his best smug captain-y, sci-fi smile. “Friends, we have come here to trade for the crystals.”

The leader of the fake men spoke in some faux Arabic language, mainly gibberish as Daly nodded along like some kind of master linguist.

“Ah, I see. Well, I can’t blame you.” Daly said.

James flinched when the gun of one of the men poked hard on his lower back. Maybe Daly was going to make them shoot him. He’s done it before, and the pain felt disturbingly real so…not looking forward to that.

“Captain, give them what they want!” James said.

“Oh, you know I will.” Daly said lowly, slipping out of character. He locked his gaze with James. There was a flicker of a smirk, gone faster than a flash of lightning. “There’s no easy way to say this, Lieutenant so I’m going to be frank—I must give you to these men.”

“Uh, captain?”

“They find your pearl white skin and willowy frame attractive. You must lay down your pride for the fleet.”

James jumped in surprise when one of the men pressed against his back. A hot, sweaty, sandpaper rough hand trailed up his stomach, wrinkling his shirt until it pressed down on his upper abdomen. There was a very real boner rubbing against his ass. James dropped his gun and wretched himself out of the man's grasp.

“You can’t be serious…sir.” James said, backing up until the back of his thighs hit the bed. The men advanced on him slowly, as if they were cornering a rabid dog. “You’re going to save me, right?”

“No, not this time.” Daly said without an ounce of sympathy. “We have no choice but to grin and bear it, Walton. That’s the Star Fleet way.”

“No, fuck this, Bob. I am not doing this. First one touches me loses teeth.”

Daly clicked his omnicorder and the men turned to stone, like they were under Medusa’s glare.

 “This'll go better if you let yourself get into it.” Daly said in his true voice. James was so sick of that phrase he could claw his own eyes out. “Besides, how long has it been since you got some?”

“Fuck you. I don’t care what you do to me, this is not happening.”

“Okay. So, we’re doing it this way.” Daly said. “You're going to be a good little concubine and perform your duties willfully or I’m going to bring Tommy in to watch them take you by force. If you still resist, he loses a body part. Remember, I can make as many Tommys as I want and they’re all sentient and they all feel pain and know you’re their father.”

“Y-you said this was a wholesome universe. I don’t even have—"

“Look down.” Daly said.

And there they were. His charcoal colored boxer briefs were suddenly too tight. He hadn't seen the boys in the game’s equivalent of years and Daly definitely shaved off an inch or two—or so James told himself.

“I'm not gay.” James tried lamely.

“The raiders don’t know that.”

“Yes, they do! Yes, they fucking do, Bob! Because you are the raiders! You’re everyone in this goddamn hell!”

“The raiders don’t care, then.”

“Bob, captain— _please_.”

“Maybe if you would’ve used that word more often you wouldn’t be here.” Robert dropped his captain act for a second before sliding back into it like an ill-fitting coat. “But you're here now, lieutenant. With me. Forever.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake!” James yelled. “What did I do to deserve this?!”

“You fucked someone on my desk today.” Daly said. “Knocked vintage figurines off it.”

“ _I_ did nothing!”

“The other you did.” Daly said, watching him with cold blue eyes, having as much empathy as a shark, before speaking again. “Let's take it from the top.”

The men snapped into motion, one pushing James by the shoulders until he fell on the powder soft bed, the other man yanking off James’s pants and stepping between his knees while yet another went to the other side of the bed and trapped his wrist against the mattress and over James’s head. James twisted and turned, but they had the strength of Samson.

The man between his legs unwrapped his sash, as James hid behind the curtain of his eyes. He is not ready to see what pornographic dick length the NPC was packing. His stomach did flip flops and his breath became elusive, causing his lungs to burn. Sweat dewed his face, instantly, like it was a wet humid day, despite the cold, desert night winds. His heart beat painfully against his chest like a drum.

One of the men’s sweat silky hands rubbed the back of his hand down the side of James’s face, and James couldn’t help the whimper that escaped his desert dry lips.

“Wait.” Daly said.

The hot hands of the men left his body as James’s cracked one eye open, to see all the men facing his captain. James let out a long sigh in relief, his lungs relaxing as the sweat on his face cooled. His eyes fluttered closed. This exercise in power was nothing but scare tactics. He flexed his wrist in the handcuff of the raider’s hands—the only one that was still touching him, though the other raider was snuggled between his thighs.

“What was that?” Daly asked, even though the raiders hadn’t said anything, like he was talking to Lassie. “I have to join? The leaders get the first turn on your planet? Well, I don’t know. Okay, for the Fleet.”

“What the fuck? Bob, _Bob_ —don’t do this!”

“Silence, Lieutenant. You are a Space Fleet officer. Act accordingly.” Daly said. The man between his knees stepped away from him, while Daly took his place. He stripped off the scarlet jacket before speaking to him in his real voice again. “For Tommy.”

Just when James thought he’d experienced the full wraths and horrors Daly could inflict on him, he did this. The asshole was always creative. It was like he was pulling an endless, terrifying rope out of a magician’s hat with each color representing a new nightmare, and, from the look on that sadistic bastard’s face, enjoying it immensely.

_You know what makes me happy? The look on your face right now._

The world must’ve been on mute, since the desert wind halted, the popping of the fire grew quiet, the buzzards (or Infinity’s misshapen versions of them) flew by wordlessly. The men’s gibberish was silent, but by the look their faces, they were cheering Daly on.

The only sound was the clicking of the of Daly’s belt as he unbuckled it, repeating through the forgotten ship, like they were in an empty theater.

James closed his eyes again, his labored breathing adding to the orchestra of Daly’s belt. He didn’t want to see what Daly did to his own dick.

Daly nudged his thighs between James’s, knocking them further apart. Their skin stuck to each other’s like Velcro, as the searing heat of Daly’s body mixed with his. He gasped in surprise when he was dragged further on the bed by the other man’s hold on his wrist, until he was fully laying on the bed spread eagled, with Daly kneeling between his legs. James’s eyes fluttered open.

The golden-haired captain was looking down at him with a smirk, his pants and underwear crushed around his ankles. His black shirt raked up to show his dough-pale abdomen. He was still wearing those Nazi jackboots and stroking his cock from hilt to tip. Daly laid on top of him, holding the upper part of his body up with his forearms on either side of James’s head. He grinded the cocks together, causing a jolt of electricity through James as it felt like he was being consumed by painless fire. A wave of ecstasy washed over him—it’s been so long that he’s basically shivering with sensation. Daly must’ve done something to his physiology—there was no way he was enjoying being raped by this power mad god, or so he hoped he wasn’t enjoying it at his own volition.

He leans into anyway, since he couldn’t change it. He let his eyes fall close as Daly skimmed his lips over his, before gripped the hair on the side of James’s hair, and pulled—it was painful enough for James to grunt, and that’s when Daly devoured him, letting the taste of pizza flood his mouth as the man’s teeth scraped his bottom lip. Too much spit, too rough—and that whole ‘no tongue’ deal went straight out of the window. Bob was inexperienced, probably copying what he sees in violent porn. Total virgin, but that didn’t stop James’s cock from getting rock hard.

Daly pulled back with a gasp, watching James like he wanted to tear his skin off, just to get to the candied insides—like he was as delicious and satisfying as revenge. He sat up on his knees and roughly picked up the back of James’s thighs pulling him down, the strange man letting go of his wrists. Daly lined himself up while his perfectly manicured fingers dug into the soft skin of James’s flesh, hard enough to bruise. He eased himself in until he bottomed out with a rough gasp. His chest heaving.

“Fuck.” They both groaned out in unison, James’s head tilting back against the bed. It felt odd, someone stretching him, but it didn’t hurt—must have been another one of Bob’s doings, because when he did this to his girlfriend for the first time, she said it hurt like hell. They weren’t even using lube right now.

Daly started a rough pounding he definitely learned from porn, because it was awkward, stilted, unpracticed, fast and missing his prostate on every other pass. The bed slipped against the grimy linoleum floor, causing squeaks to travel through the quiet, barren ship, adding to the wet noise slapping skin and the squelch of being taken. James’s breath was knocked out of him with every push of hips and he was so unbelievably full of Daly’s cock, pleasure lit a fire under his skin as he gripped the fabric at the back of Daly’s shoulders, drew him close, and panted, opening his eyes to see a breathy, open mouthed smile on his captain’s face.

“Now you’re getting it.” Daly said breathlessly. “Good boy.”

James would’ve rolled his eyes if he wasn’t lost in a bittersweet, sinful mixture of pleasure and pain. He bit his bottom lip, as he pulled Daly down to rest their forehead together. The man’s thrust faltered, as James cupped the side of his captain’s pale face and pulled him into a kiss—he’d never been into kissing but now he knew why women liked it so much—there’s something vulnerable about being penetrated, laying your body on the line and letting someone else drive—let them play with it like you’re clay and mold you into anything they want you to be, and for Daly, James was a disciple.

Daly’s thrusts became more forceful, and soon, it was like being fucked by a knife. He cried out before gripping the back of his captain’s neck and biting his own bottom lip. He knew not to complain, because it could be worse—it could _always_ (and often was) worse, so he used his unoccupied hand to jerk himself off, letting a small rain of pleasure drizzle his skin, but it wasn’t enough, it was like putting a bandage over a bullet hole. He needed to get this over with before he started crying, and Daly was a glutton for worship so…

“Yes, captain! Fuck me, you’re so good. I’ve never been fucked like this in my life.” He groaned out, while maintaining eye contact with Daly for longer than he ever did since he was sentenced to the fifth circle of hell.

He titled his head back as he hiked his legs up until Daly’s hips were cradled in his thighs, locking his ankles under the swell of Daly’s ass, pushing him impossibly deeper into him. His captain glanced down at his as red roses spread on his cheeks—the bastard had the nerve to blush as his breathing became way more labored than it was before, his hips flinching.

“I want you to fuck me until there’s nothing left. Ruin me for everybody else. Fuck me until all I can think about is your cock. Use me, like I’m a nobody groupie and you’re some coked out fucking rock star. You're brilliant, a fucking god and I only live to worship you.”

“James.” Daly sighed out, voice wavering, tucking his pointy chin on the apex where James neck met his shoulder, smothering his groans into the mattress besides James head, their hot cheeks melting together.

“I need you, Bob.” James said breathlessly and lowly, like a secret. “Always have, always will.”

That part hit a little too close to home, was he even lying anymore?

Daly pulled back, his blue eyes finally portraying something other than thinly veiled disgust for the world around him. His thin lips were parted in breathy surprise, as his pale, almost non-existent eyebrows climbed, his hips stilled, cock buried as deep in James as it could go.

It's time to pull out the big guns.

“I love you.” James said, using his kiss as the period on the end of his sentence, before breaking it and whispering into the caesura of their lips. “And I’m sorry.”

Daly gasped, slamming his hips against James’s, coming deep inside him. The gasp turned into a long groan, smothered into the mattress beside James’s head.

James ran his fingers down Daly's spine as the man slid back to himself. He kissed James sloppily before moving up for air and staring into his eyes.

James had lost his boner somewhere in the rough fray. Daly didn’t seem to notice as he pulled out, his come leaking out of James as James ran his hand down his own face and sat on the edge of the bed, flinching in pain. He felt empty.

Daly turned his back to James, pulling up his pants, zipping and buckling them before running a hand through his rose-yellow hair, making it perfect again, with some technological innovation of course.

The three men surrounding him all blinked out of existence, leaving them alone in the now dark ship, only lit by the white sunshine flooding from the open door.

 _Oh, thank god._ James thought as he stood and pulled up his pants. He approached his captain with a limp, the sharp pain of being fucked so hard realer than anything he’s felt in a long time. He slowly walked, ready to put his hand on his friend's back, but Daly threw an icy glance back over his shoulder that froze him.

He was Captain Robert Daly again. He was god again—like old testament god. The asshole one.

“They don’t have the crystals. It was a ruse.” Daly said, sounding every bit the vengeful deity the crew knew him as. “They’re in another quadrant.”

“Bob?” James’s stomach sunk.

“And you did well. It's nice to know you're good for something.” Daly watched him with a small smirk and eyes as empty as the void. If James's expression of love and remorse meant anything to the captain, he didn’t show it. “Congratulations, you have been promoted to captain’s woman…except you’re a man.” Daly shrugged. “Expect more nights like this.”

James eyes stung as his breath stuttered. Daly's eyes never left him as he spoke into the omnicorder.

“Dudani?”

“Captain?”

“Did you hear all of that? All of what transpired last night?”

“…Yes, captain.”

“Good. Play it in its entirety for the crew so they can know about Walton's promotion.” Captain Daly’s said as he gripped James's upper arm and pulled him close. James tripped over his own feet, falling into the captain's arms. The man pressed a soft kiss against his lips, like he does to Shania and Elena— it was awkward, because he and the captain were the same height. He pulled back, staring deep into James eyes before speaking into the omnicorder again. James should feel like crying, but he's barren, annoyed at himself for even entertaining the illusion of a fresh start with Captain Daly. “Transport us aboard.”

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> [x] Sorry 
> 
> [x] The title is referencing the fifth circle of hell from Dante's Inferno 
> 
> [x] I'm ashamed to say more.


End file.
